Same white mocha, an almond croissant. Why not get donuts for the department?

Timex watch looked at in 15 minute intervals awaiting the subway ride. A clamouring of bodies. Finally, on board. Trainers still on, black French Soles inside the black leather backpack. Once on Manhattan streets slip into chic footwear.

Wipe off crumbs on scarf. Mad dash to the offices, another stop over at a coffee house to grab another morning drink this time a hazelnut latte and one for Avril too.

Already on the island is Avril. Her morning is less rushed as at age 26 she still lives with her parents in their Manhattan townhouse. You’d never think that someone wearing a yellow Alessi watch takes a town car takes but Avril is our resident contradiction in terms. Typically, Avril doesn’t wake up until 8:30am as work starts at 11am. Obviously she’s only part time she doesn’t actually need to work. It’s just a ginger peach tea and a gluten-free lemon and ginger slice for breakfast.

Mom still lectures at NYU, Daddy is still at Liberty street. Edmund her eldest brother is at Goldmans Sachs and baby brother Tim is studying a useless subject at NYU.

This morning Avril decided to paint her nails after she got dressed and continued to daintily nibble breakfast and gather her belongings for work without leaving a dent on her newly polished nails. She checks Tinder and OKCupid as she’s due a couple dates tonight hence varnish application. It’s just her usual base coat applied twice then three coatings of Essie “Mademoiselle” polish. Once read in a magazine that Melania Trump uses the same shade. Avril’s dream in life is to marry a Hedge Fund Manager and have his babies. Though tonight she’ll be hooking up with Sid a Grafitti artist in Brooklyn at night; by day a freelance video editor at Vayner Media.

The other date is Mason an entrepreneur.

She’s met Sid before but this’ll be a first with Mason.

Both girls arrived at their desk, Avril skimming though her personal messages to check that neither date cancelled, Olivia opening up her file to work.

First on Avril’s after works activities is seeing Sid over in Brooklyn at Toby’s Estate (a Coffee Roaster in Williamsburg.) She succumbed to her third coffee of the day and Sid went on about work.

Enter Sid.
“Are you on snapchat,” he asked.
“I’m not actually.”
“I manged to get quick vid with the CEO today – check it out.” Enter a 10 second video of Sid and Gary doing V’s with bold text across it saying WORRRRK!!!!
“That’s so funny, whoa you got to meet the CEO?”
“Yeah most of the staff get to he’s not typical at all. I literally show up to work like this.” Sid wears a Basic white tee-shirt, navy hoodie, cargo pants and Vans.
“Where I work the women are pretty much expected to always be in skirts or work dresses, trousers are frowned upon.”
“Sounds like Mad men.”
“Yup.”

Next up burger and fries with Mr Unemployed…

Mason had incredible energy and the kind of guy us Brits would call a Cheeky Chappie. His dimples blinded Avril to the fact that he was only 19, he’d recently dropped out of NYU and already knew her little brother. The two had met skateboarding. Mason wore A.P.C jeans with a navy crewneck sweater. You’re standard Wunderkind. A Collarless Hustler.

Unbeknownst to Avril he had already been featured in Inc’s 20 under 20 Brainchild’s Transforming Tech as he and a friend developed an on-demand app to locate nearby professional organizers in Manhattan. The app is called “@YourService” the co-founders are looking to branch out into a wider pool of consultants and advisers in business efficacy to housekeeping.

Mason’s knee started to jerk up and down, he keeps breaking eye contact and looks around the room. “I don’t actually have a job as such.”
“I figured.”
“I’m a free agent, I’m back and forth to San Fran quite a bit as that’s where my investors are based.”
“What do you like to do there, outside of work I mean.”
“Umm… Skate, surf, just cruise really.”
“So where are you from originally?”
“NJ.”
“Are you still there or?”
“Yup, with my parents.”
“Me too, no wait not in Jersey. Manhattan.”
“Did you go to Dalton?”
“Yeah me and my brothers did, Timothy and Edmund.”
“Fancy names,” he turned his head once more then eyes diverted up to the ceiling.
“So, are you all in with your business?”
“Pretty much.”
“Don’t you wanna go back to school?”
“Nope.”

Name: Avril WaltersAge: 27Born: NYCBeloved Books: The Catcher in the Rye, The Bell Jar, anything by David Foster WallaceMusic: The Strokes, Franz Ferdinand, Death Cab for Cutie, Modest Mouse any live music will do but she is stuck in an era.Film: Anything with Greta GerwigFood: Generally Vegan. She flits between nibbling on avocado toast, matcha tea, kale chips, kimchi Tacos. Essentially anything artisanal. This one time she did try to live off air. Inedia was a way of life for like 31 hours. Please do not try this.Drink: Loose leaf Earl Grey, Wild Orange Blossom herbal tea. Drinks herbal tea as it is regarded as healthcare.Motto: Try it at least once!Favourite Artists: Every single resident of BrooklynDreams: Live on a California ranch, start an accessories line using materials and designs by those living in developing nations and of course giving proceeds back to these poorer regions.Perfume: Vetiver by Ralph Lauren Fragrances

These poems will be shorter but dreamier. If you’re new to my work check out my past poetry challenge posted hereas well as my debut poetry collection found here. Alternatively read my book of poems for freehere.

For those familiar with my work you know yet again I am pouring my heart and soul into this beautiful art form of poetry.

Her parents own a Georgian townhouse that is never inhabited. So much of Flo’s belongings still live there. It’s her home away from home. Tread carefully on those Minton tiles as you enter…

You’re greeted by a Marie Antoinette blue that has lost it’s lustre and has resorted to a muted existence. Curiously you see shortbread crumbs lie on the staircase, they are left so that the house mice can be fed. Specks of crumbs are still in sight after all these months. Sometimes tiny paw prints are seen from the grey house guests. Long ago, Sophia saw one of them and decided to call it Roquefort.

If only you’d seen this house during childhood Christmases the staircase wore ivy like a winter shawl, Bing Crosby in the background, the scent of cranberries, mandarins, evergreen leaves and cinnamon too. Grandma would hand-make the door’s wreath with little Flo every November. Oh, and the Christmas tree was glorious, the baubles from Florence’s Great-Grandmother. The glitter remained on three precious baubles ordained with scenes from the nativity the others in deep red, evergreen and navy with lashings of silver and gold and delicate beads decorated onto them. Such a shame that her parents moved out to the country this home is seldom brought to life anymore.

Most evident in the drawing room are the late Georgian interiors. The walls eggshell blue, profiled with the white panels you’d expect. Some old VHS cases hidden behind the sofas. There’s a vinyl player in there too Florence’s only contribution to the house as everything is pretty much inherited.

Her father’s old study has draws filled with old moleskine journals, a magnifying glass and old stationery. There sits letters from his university days as he wrote to his mother, they even have his grandfather’s letters from the war. Also sat demurely a feather quill, an empty ink pot. Nobody has ever dared opened the Moleskines, after all Mr Clover is so endearingly rotund nobody could possibly betray his trust.

A large antique globe stand alone.

The next door down is the library with much to Olivia’s delight a ladder, the girls spent many after-school hours reenacting Belle’s swish with a rockler along the cases though the girls would have to push each other as it’s not as elegant as Disney made it out to be.

Silver and napkins perch on the dining table awaiting their night of resurrection. The plates are hidden in the cupboards as they are most fragile. No flowers or fruit sit at the centre, not since Christmas. The chandelier pleads for one dalliance, one more night of romance even if it is just to be used.

On the fourth floor we see that one room upstairs is like a pretty thrift store, embellished hangers holding moments of 60’s and 70’s glory, Woodstock inspired dresses from the era. Indian slippers, Gucci loafers, buffalo sandals sit neatly in unison with the lines of the wooden floorboards. Serena’s Floppy hat sits on the standing lamp, a milkmaid’s jug sits with dead flowers. An old candle once held memories of idyllic spring mornings has now lost both light and scent. The dressing table and looking glass is strewn with neglect. The room is an homage to her maternal grandparents bohemian glory days.

The wardrobe lined with sheets from The FT and Telegraph. Alas this is not a Guardian home. Cashmere sweaters shoddily folded, an overflow of natural fibres. Some of Florence’s jumpers from childhood are shoved in too. Do you remember when Laura Ashley used to do childrenswear?

As we make our way down one flight of stairs and another we find cabinets of curiosities, religious icons on the walls, no carpets. Flo’s mother collected crucifixes, elaborate ones from the Clover’s honeymoon in Mexico. Bloomsbury waywardness juxtaposed with piercing la boheme sparseness. Empty are the floors, the fridge and the cupboard. Bare floors only a Persian rug to warm bare feet, walls lined with eclectic Frida Kahlo imitation art, Mexicana tones, Ceylon tea stained walls. The warmest and most welcoming room of the home though the paternal grandparents never wandered in- they never approved.

In the basement we find the kitchen. The walls above the kitchen counter tops lined with mismatched tiles some artisanal others mere fillers, slapped on as the Clover’s tried to make it their own. Tiles collected from trips to Spain and Mexico. Naturally there’s an Aga with copper pans hanging. There’s a kitchen island that has open shelves on one side for all those cookbooks as well as for all those ceramic dishes as Mrs Clover loves to cook English classics.

The pantry is surprisingly full given that the Clover’s are never there. You can see the preserved lemons, (half eaten) pickles, a row of almond milk, rows upon rows of jars: tahini, pepper corns even rose petals. Next you see bags of quinoa, lentils and basmati rice. There’s even a gourmet selection of salt. It’s like a little hideaway Deli.

Inside also sits clutter and art supplies expectantly waiting to be used back to life. A deck of tea candles await their next turn to shine. They haven’t been used since a Summer garden party back when Flo & Simon were together. You see all types of jams some handmade from idle summer afternoons, others leftover from Fortnum & Mason hampers. Old Crabtree & Evelyn biscuit tins (sadly empty). A glass full of paintbrushes, masking tape, pencils. Sitting there folded up a tattered, paint stained apron for kitchen and art room.

The Laundry room remains untouched as if the servants were still here, it’s like peering into a museum.

In what used to be a House keeper’s room a tiny desk sits there and stored in the walled shelves her fathers old accounts.

Nowadays the girls are likely to get together for Sunday lunch and the occasional meet up. They get together to decorate the house over Christmas but rarely are festivities celebrated there for some reason. Diane has been pestering Flo to use her parents house more often. It will be made into a home soon, if only Flo had someone to settle down with.

Flo falls into a more Bloomsbury set of Bohemia, a High Bohemia shall we say. Though as you read the novel there will be heterogeneous depictions of Bohemia so you will find a Bohemian that resonates with your soul. Stay with me and stay aboard the train to Wonderland…

Name: Florence CloverAge: 23Born: CheltenhamBeloved Books: How to be a Domestic Goddess by Nigella Lawson; all of Felicity’s Cloake’s books (pretty much just cookbooks); Nancy Mitford; Kate Mosse; Noel Streatfeild and Cookery bibles from Larousse Gastronomique to Phaidon cookbooksMusic: The Corrs, Taylor Swift, Savage Garden, Westlife, Erik Satie and Chopin (predominately classical music though – that list is endless)Film: Gone with the WindFood: Beef Wellington; Ploughman’s sandwich; Ladurée Macarons and Sticky Toffee puddingDrink: Loose leaf Earl Grey, Wild Orange Blossom herbal teaMotto: “Never is a promise and you can’t afford to lie”; “Love is eternal”; “Elegance is refusal”Favourite Artists: Mary Cassat, Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun and Andrei BelichenkoDreams: As a little girl she wished to be a Ballerina but now she seems ripe to be a Stepford WifePerfume: Changes each season usually a fragrance combining when at Jo Malone

Did you know that I have a forthcoming novel coming out?

There’s still a long way to go with it. It is called “Welcome to Wonderland” and will be Book 1 of a trilogy of novels revolving around a Bohemian Love Story. I usually post the latest news about my fiction on my official site CatherineVaughan.com and the publication date of this novel will be first announced on THIS Mailing List from my official site: http://eepurl.com/cxzD1DKindly share this 💌Mailing List💌 link to any friends and family you think will LOVE the sound of this book series.

Like all my other writing this book series is something I have put my heart and soul into. There are moments I’ve cried as I’ve typed the paragraphs. It’s a very personal story, certainly not autobiographical but an intimate imprint of all the things I wished and longed for in life that could only manifest in printed words…

You will meet Olivia Mariam. (She looks just like me.) Her best friend Serena Johnson, complete opposite in looks and temperament. Then there’s Tom and Jack Bodenham. I definitely have the song “something like Olivia” to blame for our main character’s name choice. Serena’s name is a slight homage to Whit Stillman’s debut film and of course Gossip Girl.

Naturally the story is set in England, Serena is off at University (studying English Lit) and Olivia works for a publishing press. Having previously turned down a job post at Cheltenham because that was where her life was b.c. (before crisis as in the 2008 financial collapse.) Her father Bill Mariam was a hedge fund manager who lost everything in ’08 and the family haven’t been back since. Olivia lost everything and has dedicated herself to reclaiming back her former life at any cost. Her plan? Creating an app.

Then she meets Jack.

Jack is athletic and a writer. He’s dreamy but there are ups and downs in store…

Christmas comes along and she’s finally in a place of true happiness… January arrives with a new year and a new job offer elsewhere.

In the meantime Serena has ditched her risque reputation and meets Tom. The girl’s lives change. New friendships and entanglements ensue.

As Olivia aggressively pursues her career she encounters everything she has ever dreamed of with irresistible suitors distracting her along the way. She faces a crossroad yet again and is all too aware of the fragility of life and is uncertain how to proceed in affairs of the heart.

Evelyn wants Nathaniel. Nathaniel and Jacob are enemies yet know Bill Mariam all too well. As luck would have it Jacob and Olivia’s paths cross and attraction arises. Enter temptation and disillusionment…

As she prepares to return home she has thorns in her heart one for Jack, another for Jacob and others thorns pierce her heart from other sources.

Lastly she has doubts whether it’s best to walk alone after all, but can’t but help wonder who her true soulmate is…

Book 1 is all about choices and the uncertainty of our paths in life and love. I can’t wait to announce the publication date to you all on 💌 My Mailing List💌 !

I will remember you
because I Love You.
I love you more than Life.
If i never knew you
I would not be here.
And for that I will love you
unconditionally,
I wish I didn’t sometimes
but it was predestined

I’ll never forget you
I couldn’t let myself
I can’t move on only to forget
The Love of My Life
The One made for me
Because I was born to make you happy…

I love you.
You’re The One.
If I had my way I would be with
You right now.
We were meant to be together.
I think about you everyday.
I dream about you then
I wake up and cry
Wandering why you left me…
I will remember you because
I love you.